Thanatos
by PT-chan ssu
Summary: "Do you want to die?" the boy asked straightforwardly, his gaze fixed on hers. "...No" "Then don't" -A lonely little girl on top of a slide and the boy who gave her a second chance. - I am not weak, but I need others to be able to see that. And so I can't stay a girl. I can't /be/ a girl. ShizuoFem!Izaya
1. Chapter 1

**So I love scenes like this. *shrug***

**Okay folks, so when I'm feeling emo, or think about trauma and insanity and stuff like that in general (and I'm a Psyche major btw. Not that good though) I think either Izaya. Or rather, this Izaya. Right here.**

**I wrote this fic... last year? Two year ago? Yeah... ^^ It hasn't progressed as far as it probably should've, but I want to post this Prologue first ^^ **

**DISCLAIMER: Durarara! and all characters belongs to Narita Ryohgo-sama! This is purely fanmade, and if I can sell it I would love to but I can't so yeah ^^; *SHOT* XDD**

**WARNING: DARK. I do not write smut and cannot venture into M, so no matter how this fic might look like, it stays T ^^ And this fic will probably be slow, but I love this fic from all of my own. I love Angsty Izaya, I love Angst in General, and I love Angsty Shizaya fics the most!**

**But yeah, enough with my weirdness (It's this Izaya getting to me ^^;; ) Please R&R! I hope you like it**

* * *

_The sky was a sea of fire, yellow and orange and scarlet melding together around the setting sun._

_The air was still, silent and solitary in the small park, devoid of people, the scene bathed in a sepia glow as if only an old photograph of decades ago. A moment preserved in time._

_But this is the present, and if you were to listen carefully, you would hear the muffled, yet angry sobs of a solitary child._

_She was a very pretty little girl, hidden safely within the shadows of the rusty slide... Long ebony locks tangled and matted with dirt, porcelain skin bruised and beaten and dirtied, flaming scarlet eyes swollen beneath the onslaught of tears._

_She was only 6 years old. So young, so young. And yet already she has experienced hell._

_This was the first time she managed to escape the devil, and she wanted desperately to just run and never go back... but she knew that was impossible. She was weak. She didn't yet know how to take care of herself. She knew nothing of the outside world. And it would only be a matter of time before __**he **__would__find__her__and drag her back._

_There was no escape._

_It was either she run and face the consequences, or return and live on the way she was._

_Between the devil and the deep blue sea, they say. They couldn't have been more right. _

_But... there was one other option. And in her young, helpless, desperate mind, she found it quite appealing._

_After all... her father as well has always told her to just 'die'. _

_Is it peaceful after you die?_

_The thought alone made her cry even harder, but it wasn't as if she could stop the tears no matter how hard she tries. She hated being weak. _

_Her limbs shook as she rose to her feet, the rumpled rags that may have been a dress very loose on her petite form. _

_She was scared._

_Very very scared. _

_Not of death, precisely, but what comes next._

_She has heard of an afterlife. Of ghosts and heaven and hell on the television and in books, the only solace she had at the times the demon is away. Even sleep plagued her of nightmares._

_But she couldn't yet quite grasp the concept, and it was flimsy. It was not sure._

_She knew nothing but pain and hurt and darkness in this world. She was a lonely existence. _

_But she found comfort only in that. Her existence._

_She hated being weak and helpless and fragile, but she found confidence in that she was able to live when her mother did not. _

_As sad as her existence might've been, it was her only tie to reality._

_She didn't want to disappear. Not like this. Not like how her mother did. Not when no one even knew her name. Not when no one yet knew she existed._

_She didn't want to disappear._

_"What are you doing?" a voice suddenly called, snapping her out of her tear-filled daze. _

_She was atop the slide, the highest point, and she had been staring down at the rough ground only few feet below. She was silent for a moment, before a laugh escaped her lips at the absurdity of her situation. _

_She turned to find the owner of the new voice and was met with a boy around her age –maybe older— with ruffled brunette locks and honey coloured eyes. He was looking at her curiously, if not suspiciously._

_She smiled, and people would be shocked to see such a cynical smile on such a young child's face. "I was wondering if I should die" she stated calmly._

_The boy's eyes flickered. "...Why?"_

"_Because it hurts to live..." she answered honestly, smile unwavering even as tears still flow from the corners of her eyes. _

_"Heh…" the boy mumbled, reaching her ears loud and clear. She tilted her head at the tone of voice; something hidden, something dark, something almost… sympathetic…? "Do you want to die?" the boy asked straightforwardly, his gaze fixed on hers. _

_"..." puzzled by the boy's reactions, the young girl set her own towards the orange sky. It would be dark soon, she thought. She'll need to choose. _

"…_No" _

_She didn't want to die. _

_But..._

_"Then don't" and suddenly the boy was directly in front of her, hands in his pocket and expression as serious as a child's face could be, saying those words as if they were the most obvious thing in the world._

_She frowned, somewhat irritated by this. "You can't tell me what to do" _

_"No" the boy replied. "But you said so yourself that you don't want to die. And if you don't want to then you don't have to. Or rather, you shouldn't"_

_She fell silent at this. Her mind, much too mature for her body, marvelling at such a simple-minded statement._

_It made sense, but the boy in front of her doesn't know what she has to go through while she lives, the suffering she experiences day-to-day. He didn't know anything about her at all, actually._

_After all, this was the first time they had ever met…_

_Belatedly, she realized that this was the first time she's ever interacted with another human being, and it took her by surprise. Moreover, they are talking so casually that if anyone were to pass by, they could've passed off as 'friends' in their young age._

…_Friends… She only knew it from what little she has learned. And more than that she knew how flimsy it could be. However, just the thought of it brought unfamiliar warmth to her insides…_

_It was not unpleasant, she decided._

_"Besides" the boy spoke again as he climbed up the slide, stopping next to her. He was at least a head taller than her, she noticed. His face was scratched and bruised –looking not much better than she did, she thought— and especially catching her attention were the bandages covering several parts of his body, most prominently was the cast around his right arm. This picked her curiosity. "You wouldn't die from jumping off from here" he continued almost disinterestedly, distracting her out of her thoughts as he looked out into the city._

_The young girl smirked challengingly. "I would if I were to fall a certain way. Break my neck or something"_

_The boy huffed at her. "Yeah right. You try to do that, I bet you'd fail and break a leg or an arm instead"_

_She hummed, eyeing the bandages on the other's body. "And I suppose you would know?" she asked, almost teasingly._

_He stared at her confused at first, not quite processing what she meant, but then he noticed where she was looking. "Hell no!" he growled, pulling his bandaged arm into himself, his eyes flashing. "T-This is... I just..." he stumbled over his words._

_The girl tilted her head in curiosity, awed at the slight dusting on red on the other's cheeks. _

_"A-Anyways you're wrong! There's no way I'd try to kill myself! …although I _have _fallen off this slide a couple of times before..." the last part was mumbled out, a pout forming on boyish lips. "But anyways, that's just crazy!"_

_"Hmm..." her curiosity grew at this. So he'd fallen off this very slide, broke his arms and legs over and over, having the gall to show a flash of pain –a different pain, almost similar to hers— within his golden eyes, and never once thought to die…_

…_she felt the urge to push him. Just to see how he would react…_

"_Anyways, you don't look all that good either" he mumbled out, staring down at her._

_Her eyes widened. _

_**(No. Don't look don't look don't look!)**_

_She flinched harshly; pain and disgust and panic clouding her senses as she felt searching eyes on her; frail body curling in a useless attempt to hide what marked her entire being. _

_**(Don't come near me!)**_

_She forgot they were on top of the slide, right on the near edge of it; and that single, miniscule movement she'd made caused her to slip—_

_A hand grasped the sleeve of her tattered dress, the sudden force of it ripping the cloth off, strangely powerful, sending airborne._

_Her breath caught in her throat._

_She could only watch as the world tilted around her, almost in slow motion, not quite registering what was happening. _

_She couldn't tell up from down, only the wind whipping against her cheeks. The ground seemed to be getting farther rather than closer -like a dream, she realized in her calm state of mind, and for a brief moment she wondered if this was what birds felt when they take flight... _

_And then she was falling. _

_She was high. So very high. Much higher than she was on top of that slide. High enough to be able to see the tops of the trees…_

_And she was falling. Fast._

_Her eyes widened._

_She couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't do__** anything**__ and the ground was getting closer._

_Terror gripped her then._

_Closer_

_Closer._

_Closer._

_She was going to die…_

_She was going to __**disappear…**_

"_**No…"**_

_Arms. _

_A body._

_Wrapped around her._

_Her first instinct was to flee, to fight, to scream… but she didn't feel threatened…_

_Someone was talking._

"_-y! Oy! Are you okay?! HEY!" _

_She couldn't speak. Not yet. Her eyes were shut tight, tears falling freely down her cheeks (had it ever stopped?) and her whole body was trembling._

_She was scared –so scared. _

_But calm…_

_A sigh reached her ears and slowly, she opened her eyes. Immediately she was met with warm honey gold._

_He was close, she thought. Too close. His body was against her, bandaged arms holding her tight. _

_But it was different._

_She didn't feel scared, or disgusted, or hurt…_

_It was oddly… comforting…_

_Strong, gentle, __**Warm…**_

_**Safe…**_

"_-so sorry. I didn't mean to! I swear! Are you alright?" his lips were moving, but she wasn't listening. She was more preoccupied with his eyes. "Please tell me you're alright!"_

_She's read somewhere about emotions being seen through people's eyes. And it looks like there were a lot of them in his. But she wasn't acquainted with emotions. Descriptions did very little…_

_Ah but wait. What's this? _

_She recognizes one._

_It was something she's seen before. In a mirror once or twice; before she stopped looking altogether._

_But why though? What is it doing in this person's eyes? What did this person go through that he would wear eyes similar to hers…_

_He was still talking. Why did he look as though he would cry? _

…

_Reaching a hand up to cup his face, she did the first thing that popped into her clouded mind._

_She kissed him._

***_~*.*~_***

From a very young age, I was already able to comprehend my surroundings. I had an awareness that far exceeded those of others my age and older, as well as intelligence. I knew what was happening in my immediate surroundings though I didn't know what they meant until much later.

I know my mother died when I was born, and that my father 'became' an insufferable drunkard that is an absolutely pitiful excuse for a human being, if he can even be called that.

It seemed he was never nice to begin with, but my mother dying caused him to suffer great depression to the point of going insane.

My father hated me. He still hates me.

"You killed her" he would say, over and over and over again, but I knew otherwise.

I didn't kill my mother; she died because she was weak. It could have been me who died because of her. It could have been both of us. But because I lived and she died, I spent most of my childhood as her replacement.

As her _replacement. _In other words, I became my father's bitch from the very moment I was _big enough_ for_ it_ to _fit_. I suffered through an everyday of physical, mental, and verbal abuse. And to make things worse, I had inborn _Photographic Memory _which caused me to _remember every waking second of it_.

Oh it was more than childhood trauma for me. It was a fucking _curse._

I remembered crying too, I cried and cried every single minute of every single day, feeling nothing but pain and fear and _hate _until all of my tears seemed to have completely dried up_._

I hated my mother for being so weak, for dying and letting those things happen to me. I detested my father for taking all his frustrations out on me, for succumbing into madness and doing everything he did. I hated myself for being so weak and helpless, for being too scared I couldn't even defend myself. I hated my life for becoming like that even if I did nothing wrong to deserve it.

And I hated the world.

I hated the world that is so dark and cruel and _hideous…_

That is…

Until I met _him._

Thinking back on it, it wasn't as though he was anyone special. His words could've been uttered by any other person. His actions just like any hard-headed boy.

If you look at it any other way, it was just a normal conversation between two children on top of a slide. Albeit a little on the morbid side though, I have to admit.

…Or perhaps… there might've been something else about him that took my interest. Something like what one would call a kindred spirit. Whether it be the injuries, that flash of self-loathing I saw in his eyes or… something else… something innate, something I sensed that made me converse him in spite (or maybe it was because?) of everything I was feeling at that time.

Had it been anyone else who was there… well, who knows really?

But in the end, it was _him_ who approached me that day, and so it is _him _that became the centre of my world. My… _saviour_ of sorts…

Haha.

After I met him, I found out that I didn't know a lot of things. And because of that I knew that I couldn't hate _everything_. So I decided to think things through.

In the times when my father wasn't home I would sneak out, I would explore, observe my surroundings and learn a little more about the world. There are times when I'd even stow away at a corner of the library reading book after book, recording all the information in my mind before racing back home before my Father arrives and acting as if I've never gone.

Sometimes I'd wander outside just to clear my head and watch the day go by; all the while hoping I can meet him again...

I never did.

But I don't mind. It would've been too cliché.

And through all these I gained a deeper understanding of the world I lived in. I saw that the world I knew wasn't the only world there was, that there were differences between absolutely everything. And I saw that there was a reason for everything that happens, there was a cause.

I found out that there was a reason why my father treated me the way he did, I found out there was a reason my mother died, and thus I found out there was a reason why my life was the way it was.

I also found out that there's a way to change my life, to control it. And I started doing that by…_helping_ my father out of his depression, and he did.

It was simple really. I just made him forget about my mother.

Finding a woman for him was simple, the woman was naïve too which made setting them up easy. They got together as I planned, and my father never touched me again. In fact, his treatment of me changed drastically.

_(He even remembered that people below 18 years of age were required to have proper/formal education! Can you believe that?)_

It went so smoothly that I couldn't help the feeling of utter elation that filled me. I went through years of torture only to find out it was this easy to change it…

And I thought things through, thought deep and hard as I watched the face of my father, a complete stranger to me now. I discovered that it wasn't only my life that I changed, but my father's and that woman's -the person I was to call mother from then on-'s lives as well.

And I wondered if I can do that with others too. If I could change people's lives. If it was as easy as that.

And I grinned.

I thought that, if it was that easy, then I could change…I could _control _**everything**_**.**_

And so… I thought that instead of 'hating', I should 'Love'. Love all human beings. Love them and change their lives, _control them._

And I found it relatively easy to do... and very _very _amusing.

And so, as I thought this, I also decided that I don't want to be an ordinary human being that's as easy to control as everyone else was. And I figured I could be something more, something that can 'love' all human beings.

A greater being.

But I thought that in order to do that, I can't stay as I was.

My mother couldn't help dying when she had me, and I knew it was because she was weak.

My new 'mother', or rather, my Father's new wife, turned out to be a leech. While not as well as what I was able to do, she was capable of making my father do anything she wished, and he still treated her like a defenceless flower…

And so I thought back.

Women have too many flaws. They are always dependent on other people. They are always in need of a man's support and power for them to gain true authority.

Women are supposed to be treated like porcelain, because they are easily broken. They are like flowers because they are frail, and they wilt easily.

They are also deceptive, like how Eve became Adam's downfall.

…

Oh no. I'm not sexist mind you. But there are people who are. A lot of them, even if most aren't consciously aware, and one cannot hope to strive to power if she is discriminated in the eyes of others.

Take, for example, in the Christian Bible, Eve was made for Adam because he needed company. In Greek Mythology, Hera became queen of the gods because she was raped by Zeus, who is the king. In Norse, Hel was the only female who had any _real_ power, and that was only because she held the most degrading position of all as the ruler of the land of the dead.

Even Hatshepsut and Nefertiti, two great female Pharaohs of Egypt had to grow beards and dress like men when they were in power, and still they only became real Pharaohs because they became wives to kings.

Women will forever be in the shadows of men. The wife is always of lower status than the husband. The Queen below the King…

Women can be easily taken advantage of, and that is why they use this to their own advantage, using their bodies to obtain power, to twist the will of men…

_Sickening…_

I don't want this type of power, I've decided.

I have come to love deception, but in no way do I want myself to be seen in this light; nor do I want to keep this weakness.

_My body is my own. I will __**never **__allow myself to succumb to another. _

I am not weak. Not anymore. And I have the power to live the way I want on my own, I can succeed using my own abilities above everything else.

But, I need others to be able to see that.

And so I can't stay a girl. I can't _be _a girl.

So I became a man.


	2. Chapter 2

_Madness._

That's what this is.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the person glaring back at me is unrecognizable.

Raven locks have reached well past my ears, and I'm having second thoughts about correcting it.

I would train my voice every morning, but today feel no urge to do it.

When Mairu and Kururi were born, my existence became no more significant than air in our household.

My so-called 'parents' seemed to have forgotten I exist altogether. I didn't care. My existence was never significant to them in the first place.

So I took this as a blessing, revelling in the resulting freedom; I was able to carry out my plans, my observations, my games_,_ without worrying about probing questions and unnecessary interruptions.

Becoming a male was simple at 8 years old. Still young enough that chopping your hair short and avoiding skirts and dresses was enough to confuse people; excusing you from having your pigtails pulled and bugs shoved in your face.

Perhaps it didn't work quite that well against the idiotic few who still thought that shoving people's faces in the toilet and beating them up for lunch money they don't have is ingenious, but a pair of safety scissors in one's pocket and a few kind words are enough to make sure it doesn't happen again.

But yes, still young enough to not care about the insignificant things and focus on aiming for the top. (And oh how very _simple _that was!)

It became harder at 13 when the hormones kicked in; young and impressionable. When emotions become unstable and your body begins to change, showing you something you cannot escape from.

When you're forced to watch from the side-lines as those who came after you, after your suffering and after your efforts, are pampered and spoiled while you stay in the dark, forgotten.

They call me 'big brother'. I don't correct them; that is who I am. But their existence irritates me.

They're loud. Volatile. Unreadable.

And I would never admit it, but at times I can't help but feel envious. Envious of smiles, of attention, of dolls and colourful dresses…

It's annoying.

_I don't need it._

And so those dolls would burn, the dresses stained and torn, and the smiles on their faces would vanish, would twist –would turn into anguish and tears and _hate_.

And it brings a smile to _my _face as I laugh at their pain. All the while ignoring the loathing gazes and screams and the sting of the injuries our 'parents' would inflict when they find out the culprit is _me._

I love humans. But for my sisters, I'd have to make an exception.

_Haha, hahahaha!_

***_~*.*~_***

_Madness…_

_That's what this is._

_Pure, unadulterated Madness…_

Night had long since fallen over the Enigmatic City of Ikebukuro, but the streets are far from empty.

Whether it be the occasional stressed businessmen eager for a drink after work, fresh graduates looking for some entertainment, color gangs seeking for trouble, or even the more shady members of the underground, these streets would be packed full with humans of all types and backgrounds.

Neon lights shine brightly on every building, bars and night clubs beckoning such humans for a night of fun and relaxation in the form of alcohol, loud music, and women; things that many are all too eager to accept.

And in one such establishment, accessible through a single flight of steps behind a semi-hidden doorway in a nook of one alley –a place that practically screams 'VIP'S ONLY, KEEP OUT'— a small group of people gathered.

Four of the group looked like the stereotypical underground bodyguard, while the other two stood out in their expensive looking suits and accessories. Just by looking, one can see that these people aren't to be messed with. They exceed an aura that can only be described 'shady'.

"Just as expected, your tastes are far too regal" one –the severe looking man with a tattoo partially hidden on his neck- remarked as he idly inspected the venue, clicking his tongue at the Traditional Japanese setting.

The other, who seemed to have been the addressed, smirked at the comment; the action showing off the gold nugget amidst his teeth, making him look like the obvious rich villain one would find in crime novels. "Thank you" he stated, mischief shining in his eyes. "But it is not just the decoration"

As if on his cue, the door to their private booth slid open, revealing a beautiful young woman dressed in an equally stunning dark red kimono. Smiling softly, she bowed low to all of them as a sign of respect. "Good evening dear Patrons. Please call me 'Setsu' I will be your server for tonight" she explained, expression and tone of voice radiating 'innocence'.

The smirk on his face grew into a predatory grin at the sight of her. "Well aren't you just a sweetheart?" he purred out, beckoning for her to come. "Exactly how I wanted…"

The tattooed man narrowed his eyes, disapproving of the other's less-than-legal actions but unconcerned at the same time. This, however, did not mean he was growing any less impatient.

The man with the golden tooth sighed when he noticed this, pausing in his molestations.

He leaned back in his seat, allowing the poor girl some much needed space. Immediately, a professional was on his face as he placed his chin on his hand. "So, now let's talk business"

_**Ring! Ring!**_

_**Click.**_

"_**Good Work Informant-san. Efficient as always"**_

I grin despite my urge to vomit, trying my best to keep the tremor from my voice. "Ah Shiki-san, the things I do for you" I sigh in an overly dramatic fashion. "Tonight's job was much more complicated than expected. I expect a pay raise for this!"

A chuckle resounded from the other end. _**"How much do you want then? Double?" **_His tone was slightly teasing, but I wasn't.

"Triple" I negotiated, no trace of mirth or mischief in my voice.

My hand is still shaking. Twice isn't enough.

"…" The line went silent; only the faint trace of Shiki-san's breathing informing me that he was still there, considering my demands.

_No? _I wonder as I set fire to the dumpster in front of me. I try to calm my beating heart as I watch the disgusting red fabric burn, my fingers desperately seeking for my switch-blade, my entire body yearning to be cleansed…

I really don't know what compelled me to pull through with this job. I admit that the original price itself was much higher than my usual fees due to the importance of this information, but unlike others, I don't run just for the money.

So why then? What reason did I go so far as to break my own rules?

Slightly, absentmindedly, I find my hand fingering a strip of satin from the bin, untouched by the flames…

I flinched, pulling the traitorous limb back to my person as I glare at the inferno…

"_**I suppose that can be arranged" **_

Shiki-san's voice brought me back to reality, his words making me grin.

"_**It must've been a long night indeed. Get some rest Orihara-san; you can send me the results tomorrow. I'll have the amount transferred to your account as soon as I get the information"**_

_**Click.**_

_**Beep. Beep.**_

Staring at the device in my hand, I can't help but marvel at Shiki-san's directness. He truly _is_ my best client; sharp, professional, not-too tight on the bills and still _very_ much human. My grin widening, I tuck the phone inside my jacket pocket before skipping down the alleyway thinking of a warm, thorough cleanse in my own bathtub.

I'm not wearing my usual fur-trimmed parka tonight. No, in fact I'm not wearing anything _remotely _close to my usual attire at all. Call me paranoid but, as a high-class informant, it wouldn't do well on my reputation should anyone recognize me at this moment.

Orihara Izaya stepping out from a prostitution establishment in female garb…

My grin wavered as disgust bubbled in my stomach, and before I knew it I'm retching all over the side of the alley. Dry heaves only followed by the toxic taste of bile.

No.

It was all just spying.

There were drugs in their drinks. I made sure of that.

They won't remember me once they wake up.

_Vile, chapped lips traced up the side of her neck as a wandering hand travelled lower…_

_The other offending limb slipping through the opening in the front of the kimono, acidic wet muscle tracing the path…_

_Sharp incisors digging shallowly into flesh._

My teeth clenched, bringing a shaking hand to the wound just below my collar-bone. Bile rose up my throat again; my hand continuously rubbing the entire area from my neck to my chest in an effort to erase all traces of the offending mark, hoping the revolting memory disappears with it...

I don't feel pain as my nails dug into flesh; I don't feel the blood gushing out through the raw wound. What I do feel is repugnance; for that man, for my actions, for _myself._

Nothing happened.

I disappeared as soon as I gathered enough material.

They fell asleep.

But the bitter memory of even that _slight_ violation is enough to send my mind into panicked disarray.

_Pathetic._

"Haha… hahaha!"

I laugh.

Loud and clear and maniacal…

"Hahahahahaha!"

Reliving psychological trauma for an excuse to wear a dress_…_

It's all so incredibly hilarious… Worthy of a Nobel Prize!

"Hahaha…"

If only it weren't happening to _me._

I stop; my expression blank as I slide down the wall, staring at the blood staining my hand.

The night was dark, only the dying embers from the burning garbage bin illuminating the area. My head felt itchy from the wig I've yet to take off, my face uncomfortable with all the make-up, and the jacket felt much too foreign.

A bitter smile crosses my face as I stare ahead, unwilling to think of anything as the dying light fades into darkness.

_Madness…_

* * *

**An UPDATE XDD **

**Aaah the Angst and the twins and SHIKI!  
I shall say sorry. I don't really know Shiki that well, so if he was OOC, then please forgive me =_=;  
**

**I think I overdid this chapter a bit...? But I do have to say I reeeealy like this chap, personaly! ^^; Hope you liked it too. XDD  
So Shizu-chan probably wouldn't get screen time for a while, like, three more chaps? But after the entire nature of this fic might change OAO (cause I have this sort of bad habit of Mood-Whiplashing between Angst and Fluff for some reason), but if it doesn't then OwO XDD**

**Anyways, please feel free to tell me what you think! **

**Chapter Explanation (I may put stuff like these around sometimes. You don't have to read this if you understand, it's more like a rant really, but please feel free! ^^;) **

Basically, Izaya doesn't want to be a girl_. _He's sworn off that gender and he never really knew it in the first place. BUT he uses 'Kanra' –a girl— as an online identity, why is that? My explanation would be this:  
He will forever deny it, but he wants to experience what it's like to be a girl. He always stood in the background watching his sisters, and he wants to experience it himself.  
BUT, his pride won't allow it.  
He can act like a sissy all he wants and it doesn't matter to him. Growing his hair long and wearing anything 'too' feminine though (like skirts and dresses) he will never do. EVER. (Or so he says)  
…that is, unless he gets something out of it. An excuse.  
And thus, in his earlier years of being an informant (he's only around 19 and climbing up that ladder) when he realized that the mission Shiki gave him required meticulous _spying,_ and that the easiest role to play in this point is exactly that –A server girl, a maiko in a traditional Japanese setting, of elegance and beauty — he was only too curious to accept; using the fact that he isn't yet so formidable that he can guarantee hired spies wont fail him.  
But he also knew the nature of the job –prostitution. And so he made triple precautions to make sure it doesn't happen.

Thing is though, he's traumatized in that department. And he didn't expect he'd be so shaken at even the _slightest_ breach.

So we get that ^^ (I totally just explained the entire chapter…. Wow…..)


End file.
